THE SCHOOL MAGAZINE

Summer 1964

YESTERDAY HAS GONE by Linda Stares (4G)

At three years old I was a child,
At Christmas and at Spring,
I heard of Jesus meek and mild
The Queen of Hearts, and King.

At five years old I went to school
And learned to read and write;
Hot was hot and cold was cold
And after day came night.

At thirteen came some complications,
Cool was sometimes cold,
Worries, lies and estimations,
And young I found - was sometimes old.

At sixteen things were changing quickly
I was addressed as Miss,
Etiquette was laid on thickly,
I learnt the meaning of a kiss.

But now I'm twenty-one and gone
Are days so free of care,
Wishes are not based upon
Dream castles in the air.

Because at this age you're expected.
To be grown up, - mature,
Christmas stockings are rejected
And hopes get fewer and fewer.

DOWNHILLS HOWLERS

Julius Caesar's last words: "Ecoutez, Brutus."

......"mixed in a cynical flask"....

Light a piece of paper, turn on the gas and work your way up to the top of the bunsen-burner.

Trees lose their leaves in Autumn so that they do not get blown off in Winter.

While birds are in the air they can use their wings for flying.

We greased the edges of two southern hemispheres.

Q: What does a thermometer measure? A: About six inches.

BEOWULF'S FIGHT by Janis Marcu (3S)

Then the warrior, whose name was Beowulf, found himself in some strange hall, where no water touched him, and the clutching waves could not come near him. He saw the light of the fire, gleaming rays, shining brightly, looking fierce but gently warming the walls. His thoughts were brought to a halt, when an ugly, echoing laugh filled the air. It seemed to have come from all around him, and as he tried to find where it was, it grew louder and louder, soon it was so loud that the walls began to shake. The warrior looked terrified at this. He knew he was helpless.

When, in the same way it came, it began to fade away, until the roaring laugh was a mere giggle. This giggle did not go away, but in a few minutes time, in came the person to whom it belonged. It was the most beautiful woman anyone could have imagined. It seemed almost impossible that such a hideous noise could come from a beautiful woman as this.

Then, the giggling stopped and as Beowulf was staring at her she began to change. Her delicate white hands changed into pale green claws, her teeth began to be yellow fangs and her face as ugly as the noise was beforehand. Even her clothes changed through some mystic happenings. Beowulf was amazed at what he saw and was speechless.

Suddenly this witch-like creature produced a dagger from under her black cloak. She began to walk slowly towards the frightened warrior, and as she came but a few inches away from him, he just managed to leap out of the way, before the dagger could pierce his lung. Then again she walked slowly towards him and again he leaped out of the way. But this time he was not so quick, and the dagger went into his arm. The she-monster laughed, but Beowulf caught hold of the arm holding the dagger and tried desperately to take it away from her. Blood was dripping from his arm and he was getting weak. The she-monster pushed him away and he fell to the ground.

He got up as quickly as he could and ducked to escape the dagger which was once more thrust into his direction.

But it scraped his face, and stung him. He fell again, as he fell he banged his head on the ground. For a few moments he was dazed, and then he was aware that he was unable to move. It was because the she-monster was tightly wrapping a piece of rope around Beowulf's neck. As the warrior was spluttering, he saw an old rusty sword on the wall just above his head. It was about all he could do, to pull this sword down. Then with one mighty thrust, the rusty sword went into the she- monster's stomach. He felt the rope loosen around his neck, and he slowly dragged the sword out again. As soon as the sword was out, blood spurted everywhere.

As the monster was dying, she shrivelled up until she was no bigger than a tennis ball.

Feeling weak and with his arm covered in blood, and with a thin stream of blood running down his face, he stumbled to the entrance, where he saw more she-monsters swimming about. But very luckily for this warrior, without the aid of their mistress they were almost harmless. Beowulf swam to the top of the water as quickly as possible. From there he knew he was safe.

A JOURNEY UP IN A LIFT by Jennifer Elam (4J)

The lift jerks to a stop and you enter in,
Just enough room for eight persons therein.
The button is pressed.
The mechanism rolls.
The lift lurches upwards
And onward it goes.

The people inside stand like
sardines in tins
Exchanging their greetings, to her
then to him.

Mrs. Gossip and parrot
Mr. Boswaith with bowler,
Little children with lollipops
Onward they go.

The first floor is passed, then second, then third.
The moaning wind on the landing is heard.
The lift comes to a standstill,
The doors open wide,
The people surge out, and doors close behind.
No further it goes.

LIMERICK by John Hillier (4th Year)

There once was a man from Argyle,
Who was surprisingly put in the mile,
He was shot by the starter,
Which made him go faster,
That four-minute miler from Argyle.

THE CHEAT by John Hillier (3S)

One day I was asked to referee a game of Woggle. The world renowned game, in which the idea is to strike a square block of rubber called the whack, with your nose into a goal one-foot wide and six-feet high. One or two persons in every generation are lucky enough to be born with a woggler's nose which can be recognised by the curving-up at the end. For lobbing the whack under the opponent's legs.

Now that I have introduced you to the art of woggling I would like to start the story. As I was saying, I was asked to referee a game of woggle in which the 'Whickham Wigglers' played the 'Crawford Crawlers', for this reason, the match was of great importance to both sides. Whickham Wigglers were boasting a new discovery, who, they said, could balance a whack on the top of his nose.

The stadium was packed hours before the nose-off, and thousands of people were locked outside the Pucking Green. The cause of all excitement was the Wiggler's new discovery 'Honest Harry Cramshore'. The atmosphere reached fever pitch as the game commenced. Straight away the whack literally flew to Cramshore's nose. All attempts by the opposite side to dislodge the whack were in vain, the whack was firmly lodged to his nose. Cramshore instead of striking the whack into the goal just ran under the goal, causing many shouts of 'Cheat' and 'Unfair' from the Crawler's supporters. This procedure was repeated ten times before half time, whilst the opposing side just stood around doing nothing, absolutely helpless.

The second half started off just as the first, with Harry Cramshore in firm control. He was just about to score his first goal of the half, when, suddenly a piece of shiny metal fell out of the whack, which immediately fell off Cramshore's nose. I hurriedly stopped play, and inspected the ominously suspicious object. Could this in some way have any bearing on the goal scoring agility of Honest Harry, the wonder woggler?

Hastily snatching the nose guard from Harry's face, I revealed to the crowd's horror a magnet, and the mystery of dis-Honest Harry was now solved. Leaving the Whickham Wigglers unable to wiggle out of the consequences this time.

Grateful acknowledgements and thanks to all those who have helped with the Magazine, and in particular the contributors, both successful and unsuccessful, and the following 'Production Staff':

Brenda Beeson, Lynn Duncan, Susan Marson, Mrs. M. Diccox, Mrs. H. Fazzani, Kenneth Carveley, Susan Fuller, Susan Dennison, Christine Dean, Valerie Wilson, Susan Perkins.

A.S.J.